A Night at the Bannered Mare
by The New Mandalord
Summary: Skyrim can be a beautiful place, but in the winter it can turn harsh and unforgiving. But with a good meal, warm beds, and better company, it can be tolerable. OCxOC.


**Hey guys, New Mandalord here **

**I did this little piece a while back, and I thought I should publish it. Something fun.**

**Layla is my Redguard character on the PC, while Urd belongs to Fuuko No Miko. The Bosmer Armor belongs to a special mod on steam.**

**As always, read, enjoy and review**.

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Skyrim was a land of great beauty and great danger, one of which was the ever present cold. In the summer months the cold winds coming off the mountains was refreshing and enjoyable, especially during the long sweltering days of Sun's Height. But now it was Sun's Dusk, which meant the days were shorter, nights grew longer, and the cool breezes bit like steel.

A blast of snow and wind tore through the common rooms of the Bannered Mare, leading to the displeasure of the closest guests. The Bosmer, Urd Wen, could not care less as he made his way to the fire pit in the center. The fine leather armor he styled in the Bosmer fashion kept in a majority of his heat, but hood and cowl did very little to protect his face from the winds that seemed to enjoy ripping it away. His fingers hand better protection from their supple leather outside, and wolf's fur lining, but constant snow made his fingers as stiff as the grave.

The common room of the Bannered Mare was close but had high ceilings, roaring fire pit, and was sealed tighter than a noblemen's daughter. A Redguard serving woman ran back and forth with skewers of meat while the owner, Hulda, drew beer or mead from the kegs, telling her stories and rumors all the while.

The benches were crowded, local townsfolk and farmers mingling freely with all manner of travelers. The central trade city made for odd companions; a brethren Bosmer hunts men who smelled of animal blood discussed hunting tips to the feral-beauty of the Companions, the warmaiden, Adrianne Avenicci, discussed sales prices with a Breton merchant while her War-Bear scarred away any potential threats, hard-bitten sell-swords and plump soft merchants tried to win the heart of the fair Ysolda - with little success.

A few Imperial Centurions hovered around the outskirts, hands firmly planted on their swords. Urd had no real opinion in the on going war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks. A part of him pitied the rebels for not being allowed to worship Talos, but those feeling were quickly eclipsed by their utter hatred for Elves, Khajiits, Argonians, and anyone they deemed "not a True Nord." Stories came in about an Imperial thane and his Nord wife defeating the rebels in the east. They crushed Ulfric's army at Dawnstar by using powerful magic, or creating a prisoner uprising in Winterhold, or burning them alive on the backs of dragons to take Riften. Fun stories to tell around the campfire, but to Urd the on going civil war was none of his concern.

Urd found a empty table near the back. Nearby a handsome youth was fingering his woodharp. "Eight blessing and Tiber Septim to you, good elf." He said as he stood in front of Urd.

"And to you, bard," Urd returned.

The door opened yet again, sending another blast of cold air and snow into the inn. A Redguard with skin like melted chocolate and hair that looked like spun gold came in, half saunter and half swayed in the inn. Her cloak parted, and Urd was happy to see that she wore steel armor underneath, but it was tight-fitting and clung to her like a second skin. The moment she entered every man was entranced, even the proud and noble War-Bear who only had eyes for his wife was finding it hard to look away. Urd knew that the Redguard was enjoying it, but she only had eyes for him.

"Bread and meat and mead!" she called out in a tone that meant now. The singer, a Nordic youth of some twenty years, eyed her boldly, asking if he could sing about her beauty and if there were more like her in Hammerfell. Much to her credit, Layla Ibn la'Ahad did not gut him like a river trout, but instead let his questions fly like arrows. "There are, if you can brave the deserts."

"I've been through there a hundred times, and I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you," Mikael said, unabashed. Urd was afraid he would say some that stupid.

"Oh," Layla said in a low-purr. "So do you know Trade Prince Tychyllo Flaerris then?"

"He keeps a tent ready or me, and Tychyllo is like father to me."

The fact he struggled to pronounce the trade-prince's name amused Urd. Urd loved to music of his mother's harp, father's ocarina and the forrest of Valenwood from his childhood, while Layla thought bards like Mikael were as useful as rainbows and ribbons. Only people like Braylen Fellcaller or Janissa Runeweaver struck her fancy, any other was a nuisance.

With a quick flash of silver, a Nordic axe had barrier itself into the table. Layla gave the bard a smile and had murder in her eyes. "Where is my bread, meat and mead I ordered?!" She shouted.

"And a chicken with some wine would be nice before I starve to death." Urd added, oblivious to her outbreak. Mikael, in fear, stumbled back into a table filled of Nordic legionaries.

"That was easier then I thought," Urd commented as the legionaries berated the bard for his clumsiness.

Layla tossed him a few pieces, and requested 'Ragnar the Red.' As Mikael played, Layla put two sweet rolls on the table.

"Where did you get these?"

"Stole them. If a guard asks, don't answer them." They both shared a quick laugh. "Are we always going to meet at inns?"

"They have good food and good company, but let's limit our alcohol tonight."

"And say no to any drinking contests."

Between the two of them they had finished two whole chickens, two casks of whine, five bottles of mead, a loaf of fried bread and two venison stakes. By the time they turned in for the long night, their heads were only slightly swimming. Enough to impart their steps and speech, but not their judgement.

Urd tossed in the bed in his rented room, unable to sleep. It was too bloody cold in the upstairs rooms, the heat of the fire dying hours ago, and the sheets were thin cotton. Even in the dead of winter, Valenwood would be hot and tropical, but in Skyrim the cold was like death.

'By the Nine!' Cursing under his breath, he rolled from the bed. He crossed the small hallway and stood right in front of her room. His desire for her was the only thing keeping the Bosmer warm, but unlike most men he was cautious. Urd once saw Layla guild a overly confident Dunmer who though could tame her as she slept. Her axe put an end to that.

Layla was sound asleep when he entered the room, a collection of smooth curves mostly hidden under mammoth fur. This made him somewhat jealous. Urd stood in the doorway a moment, well aware that if she was awake, he would have been a deadman.

He was no Khajiit, but his eyes were trained enough to see in near darkness. He took a deep breath and stalked towards her. Carefully, he lifted the pelts that covered her until she lay bare before him. All of her, from her soft curves, to battle-gained muscle was displayed in front of him. Layla stretched out like a feline and rolled onto her back, exposing her lovely breasts to the night air. Urd's mouth started to water as Layla softly snored.

Modesty be damned, he lowered himself onto his stomach, stretching out between her welcoming thighs. It was odd, but in her sleep Urd could swear that Layla looked different then when she was asleep. Softer. Endearing. Kinder. In an oddly possessive moment for him, he hoped he was the only one to ever see this side of her.

She was as warm as the Alik'r desert and fragrant as the most exotic spice. Spreading his hands underneath her splayed thighs, he kissed her tender skin where her hip became her legs. Ran his tongue down the crease between groin and leg until her could just nip the under curve of her bottom. Taking his time, he nibbled her flesh, tormenting himself by avoiding her sex, all the while breathing deeply of her otherworldly aroma. He circled her sex, occasionally tasting the juices that came out. She sighed, unconsciously angling her hips to give him better access. He smiled.

She sighed again, sliding one leg up until her calf rested on his back, her thigh on his shoulder. He welcomed the pillow for his cheek as he angles his head to slide his into her dark reaches. He played there, exploring her folds and crevices with his tongue until he felt the impatient buck of her hips.

Smiling, he took the subconscious hint. Up he lick, spreading her, until he found that hard nub and firmly pressed. She gasped, her hips rocking. Groaning something in Alik'r, he sucked her clit into his moth, nursing, teasing it with his tongue and teeth.

The sudden rush of her orgasm woke Layla from a hazy dream of her homeland. She opened her eyes, and the blazing sun and shifting sands had turned into a complete lack of light. But she felt him. As the tremors in her body subsided, she felt his arms wrapped around her thighs, hands relaxed on her belly. His mouth was lock permanently on her cunt, sucking her back into another...

Her back back arched, her thighs struggling to close on the intense sensation. He growled, altering his hold so that those arms and hands kept her splayed as he continued to devour her.

"Urd," she begged, reaching down to clutch his hair.

He growled again, sinking his tongue as deep as it would go into her wet delta, nodding so that his nose pressed, rubbed her clit.

"Ah, wait," she cried, writhing beneath him. She knew it was him. Others had done this. Other men and women had done this, but only he made her squirm.

"Urd!" She screamed as her entire body undulated with agonizing pleasure.

He refused to give her any time to breathe, pausing only long enough to take a breath of his own before angling his head another way. This time he sucked her clit into his mouth and unwound one arm from her thighs so that he could sink three fingers into her clutching mussel. She cried out, pound his back, nearly doubling herself in half to clutch as his shoulders.

They fought like this for hours, it seemed. She fought not to cry out, and he fought to make her quiver and scream. She was losing. Worse, she could not bring herself to care.

Finally, she lay all strength. He had depleted her to a trembling mass of muscle and wet tissues. She fell back to the furs, arms akimbo and legs splayed. Breathing hard, eyes closed, she could only lie at his mercy.

His actions grew tender once again, acceding to the fact that there was just no more orgasm in her. Smiling in the dark, he lapped up her juices, kissed the inside of each warm thigh, then pulled away. She expected a comment, a confirmation of triumph, something that she had received from past lovers, but none was forthcoming. He crawled up her body and used his strong hands to roll her limp body to the side. He used a few moments to arrange her body into the warm curve of his, her buttocks nestled against his belly, his rock-hard cock trapped between her thighs.

Layla yawned and settled, not quite snuggling into his embrace. "Took you long enough."

Urd gave a small chuckle, "Too cold in my room. This is better."

"Much," she slowly moving her butt back and fourth. Urd deafly moved his hand up to her luscious breasts. The nipples were already round and as hard as pebbles. "Do you think that bard heard?"

She felt the small breath of a chuckle near her ear just before he kissed her temple. "Who cares?"


End file.
